


Gifts & Favors

by thekingofcarrotflowers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gift Giving, M/M, Minor Angst, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofcarrotflowers/pseuds/thekingofcarrotflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull realizes that Dorian is struggling to get by, even with the money he's receiving from the Inquisition. Dorian isn't used to getting help from others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts & Favors

**Author's Note:**

> It's a bit rough and a bit jumpy, but I hope you enjoy!

There was a heavy pounding on Dorian’s door, causing him to bolt upright in his bed. He scrubbed at his face, trying to push the sleep lingering around him away. He glanced towards the door, seeing light spilling in through the small gap in the curtains and beneath the door frame. Yawning and stretching lazily, he let the knocking continue.

  
“Dorian, we need to get going,” Bull called from the other side. The realization that he was late for departure for the Western Approach dawned on him.

  
“Kaffas!” Dorian exclaimed, scrambling across the room and to the door. He swung it open, standing before Bull in his sleep clothes. Bull blinked at him for a moment, eyes flickering over his mussed hair and frizzy mustache, the crusties of sleep at the corners of his eyes, and a smile pulled at his lips.

  
“You’re late. Didn’t know you needed so much beauty rest. Thought it was all natural,” Bull grinned down at him.He had wondered if when Dorian took off all his makeup, his golden powder and his kohl, if the man underneath looked the same or entirely different. He’d seen enough nobles like that to know how easily someone could apply a mask just right to hide away their imperfections behind it. However, he couldn’t deny that Dorian was still beautiful like this, and there was a small pang in his chest at the idea of seeing Dorian like this more often. There was still that glimmer of hope something more happening between them, Dorian giving Bull the go ahead to continue flirting.

  
“Yes, well,” Dorian huffed, crossing the room to snatch up his pack, “I’m already packed. Just need to get dressed and look presentable.”

  
Bull glanced around his room, finding that there was little within it. There was only the essential things that were probably already there when Dorian chose the room — a bed, a dresser, a desk. There were books and parchment scattered about the room, and Bull knew they were all ones from Skyhold’s library. He had expected the man to have his room littered with things from home and things he acquired during his travels, but this seemed rather bare. Bull frowned, remembering that Dorian hurried south to try to set things right, had left behind the life he once led, and was practically disowned by his family. He hadn’t thought much about what that meant for Dorian’s bank account or supplies, though he did remember Dorian swiping ales from others more often than not.

  
“Sera was wrong. You don’t have everything covered in gold leaf,” Bull said with a lopsided smile, trying to conceal the way he was studying the room and Dorian.

  
“Yes, she’s quite wrong about a number of things. I certainly don’t shit gold, either,” Dorian muttered, picking up his pack and pushing it towards Bull, “Be useful. Go wait outside, and I’ll be out in a moment.”

  
“I’m sure you can go without kohl for—” Bull began to say, knowing how long it took some of the others to get around in the morning. He had mostly missed Dorian’s morning rituals at camp, the man rising as late as possible, but he always seemed ready when the Herald announced that it was time to head out. Bull realized that for as much attention he paid Dorian, the man was still a bit of a mystery to him.

  
“I think not,” Dorian said sharply, giving Bull’s chest a strong shove. Bull wasn’t going anywhere unless he wanted to, but the force of it made Bull sway slightly, “I will be fifteen minutes. Tops.”

  
“Uh huh,” Bull doubted it, thinking of Dorian’s perfect hair and mustache, the finely placed kohl. He sighed as Dorian slammed the door on him, mind wandering back to Dorian’s supplies. He tried to think of how many different robes he’d seen the man in, and how often he seemed to complain about his clothes getting ruined. He could only remember a couple of pairs — the teal and gold ones that really brought out Dorian’s eyes, the red pair that look great against Dorian’s skin, the gray pair that Dorian wore when they were up to their knees in corpses or water, the navy pair that looked like the night sky, …

  
Bull frowned, realizing that he probably had a wider assortment of awful-colored pants than the mage had robes. There was only so many times he could wear mud and blood-stained clothes before it was time to change. He wondered if Dorian had that luxury, and there was a strange pang in his chest. He was sure that Dorian was making enough with the Inquisition to afford more robes now, though he was sure the man hardly had time to go clothes shopping with the end of the world on their doorstep. Bull felt a strange need to protect the mage, after finding out some of what happened with his father and realizing that beneath all the walls and snark, Dorian actually cared deeply for the world around him. He was impossibly patient with Cole, even when the spirit had laid all of Dorian’s problems out in front of everyone. Some sort of strange friendship was blooming between Dorian and Sera, the pair bonding over their distrust of most nobility and their streak for trouble-making. The man deserved a better life that he had so far, full of hate and distrust and struggles, and Bull felt a strange need to make things easier for the man. They were friends, after all.

  
“There, see?” Dorian said, his voice sounding tense still. He was dressed in the robes that brought out his eyes, his hair was perfectly styled, his mustache perfectly curled, and his kohl perfectly applied. It had taken him ten minutes at most.

  
“Huh,” Bull smiled at him, handing over Dorian’s pack, “You keep surprising me, ‘Vint.”

  
Dorian huffed out a laugh. The word ‘Vint had long gone from being an insult to almost a term of endearment.  
  
Dorian fumbled over his apologies to the Inquisitor, though they didn’t seem too concerned. Still, a blush rose in Dorian’s cheeks when Cassandra made a noise of disapproval at him. His desire to prove himself to others often left the mage kicking himself for his mistakes, and Bull watched as Dorian chewed at the inside of this cheek as they began their travels. Bull tried to pick small talk with the man, but Dorian was back to snapping peevishly at him and storming out of Bull’s earshot. When they settled down for the night at camp, Dorian hesitantly sat next to the Bull during dinner.

  
“Get that bug out of your ass?” asked Bull, though it had some level of concern to it that Dorian caught on to.

  
“I apologize for my behavior earlier,” Dorian said, looking Bull in the eye and Bull knew the smaller man was sincere, “You were trying to cheer me up and I just kept being … difficult.”

  
“Yeah, well…” Bull shrugged slightly.

  
“I also should have thanked you for waking me this morning. I was late enough already,” Dorian muttered, looking down at the bowl of stew in his hands.

  
“Didn’t see you at the gates, so I thought I should get you. Thought you might have fallen asleep in the library,” Bull shrugged slightly.

  
“No, I was just up researching and fell asleep, I suppose,” Dorian sighed.

  
“Cassandra isn’t as mad as she pretends,” Bull advised, nodding over at the Seeker. Even her resting face held an air of irritation and judgment, though Bull knew it was part of her things. For a position of power, one needed a strong front, and Cassandra did great at that part.

  
“Ah, well… Good to know,” Dorian nodded slightly. They ate in silence for some time, Bull watching the mage out of the corner of his eye.

  
“Can I ask you a question?” Bull asked, keeping his voice light.

  
Dorian nodded, “I suppose so.”

  
“Been in your room long?” he asked, avoiding the topic directly for a minute.

  
“As long as we’ve been at Skyhold.”

  
“It’s rather empty.”

  
Dorian cleared his throat, “Yes, well… I didn’t bring much with me traveling south, and I lost what little I had in Redcliff.”

  
“Right,” Bull nodded, “You could buy yourself more robes.”

  
Dorian rolled his eyes, “I thought you wanted to get me out of them, not me into more.”

  
Bull snorted slightly.

  
Dorian hesitated before adding to his train of thought, staring down into his hands, “Perhaps I will, but I have some … loans to pay off first.”

  
“Right, sure,” Bull nodded. It’d been a long time since he owed anyone money. There might be a few barkeeps out there with open tabs, but the work with the Chargers always kept Bull’s pockets well-padded. Still, he understood the pains of knowing you owed someone something, whether it was money or a favor. He suddenly felt bad for bringing up the subject at all, Dorian looking tense once more. He reached out and patted the mage’s shoulder, “That’s pretty responsible of you. I’m sure Sera’s wasting much of her coin on supplies for pranks, and who knows where Cole’s stipend goes…”

  
“I believe he gives it to some of the refugees,” Dorian shifted slightly, looking up at Bull again.

  
Bull hummed, “Surprised he’s not trying to feed it to the chickens.” As he hoped, a laugh was startled out of Dorian. No one could quite figure out Cole’s affinity for the flock of hens at Skyhold, and it became a sort of running thing.

  
“Thanks for your concern, Iron Bull,” Dorian said gently, laying a hand over Bull’s for a fleeting moment, “I appreciate it, though I will be just fine.”

  
Dorian  hurriedly retreated to his tent at that point, leaving Bull to stare into the fire and think about the feeling of Dorian’s fingers brushing against his.

  
  
The next day was long and tiring, as they battle through Darkspawn and Venatori and the desert predators that caught scent of spilled blood. It was dry and windy, kicking up sand into their eyes and mouths, sapping all the moisture from their bodies. Dorian made a few passing complaints about the heat, which none of them could disagree with, and Bull was reminded of Seheron. When the thought of dead children, of blood running down streets, of the smell of burning flesh filled his head, he was grateful to be here and not there.

  
They called it quits early, retreating to their tents in the shade of a pass. Even then, the ground felt baked and the air was too hot, too still here. Bull felt restless, the stifling heat reminding him again of Seheron. He tried to shake the thought away, but it pressed in around him like the heat did, and he decide to seek out Dorian to stay distracted. He knocked on his tent flap as best as he could, and was greeted with a loud sigh.

  
“Come in,” Dorian huffed, and Bull ducked through the tent.

  
Dorian was only in his light leggings, his robes laid out before him. He had changed into his pair of gray ones at the word of Darkspawn scattered across the landscape, and there was blood and muck splattered across them. He’d already shined the buckles and metal pieces back to perfection, but the blackened Darkspawn blood was proving difficult. Bull couldn’t help but let his eyes stray over Dorian’s physique, the broad shoulders, the lines of muscles that were so strange for a mage to have, the toned strong arms. All that smooth, dark skin currently with a slight sheen of sweat.

  
“Damned Blighters,” Dorian huffed, picking at a spot where the blood was particularly heavy.

  
“You do this all the time?” Bull asked, struggling to kneel down in the tent so he wouldn’t rip it apart with his horns.

  
“What? Clean my robes?” Dorian questioned. He frowned at Bull, realizing he was struggling with adjusting his bum leg.

  
“Yeah. Thought you’d leave the maids to that,” he shrugged slightly.

  
Dorian gave a dry laugh, “If you leave all the blood sit for too long, it stains. I learned that the hard way. One of the maids - Clara - showed me how to spot clean before we return to Skyhold, and I — All this talk of clothing isn’t boring you? You hardly seem to have much interest in fashion.”

  
“I asked because I wanted to know,” Bull nodded, and Dorian still eyed him skeptically, “I asked because you’re my friend.”

  
A blush rose in Dorian cheeks than, darker than when Bull flirted with the man and made comment about his staff, and Dorian busied himself with a buckle that was already clean. The blush lingered for a long while, and Dorian continued to stare down at his robes, hands moving shakily across the stains.

  
“Vinegar,” Bull said suddenly, grateful that it caused Dorian to look up, “Vinegar helps. Should start bringing some with you.”

  
Dorian nodded hesitantly, managing a small smile, “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

~~~

  
They returned to Skyhold a week later, Dorian with one set of ruined robes. The teal ones that brought out of his eyes, Bull thought sadly. Bull stalled at the gates, waiting for Dorian to make his way through.

  
“Come have a drink with me?” Bull suggested, laying his hand on Dorian’s shoulder.

  
Dorian shifted uncomfortably under his hand, “I’m not sure your Chargers care for me much.”

  
“Ah, c’mon,” Bull frowned slightly, “They just don’t know you yet.”

  
“I’m not sure Krem has any interest in getting to know me. I can’t blame him, really,” Dorian muttered, ducking away from Bull’s touch, “Another time.”

  
“Sure, sure,” Bull nodded, “See yah, Dorian.”

  
Dorian nodded politely before hurrying off to the library.

 

~~~

  
  
One night, Dorian returned from his studies to find a pile of neatly folded, brand new robes on his bed. On top, there was a bottle of vinegar. A strange tightness started in his chest and throat as he reached out to touch them, running his hand against the soft material of the robes. He knew who they were from immediately, and a wetness sprang up in his eyes at the thought of Bull going out of his way to requisition robes for him. Josephine even had his measurements already, from the approaching Winter Palace.  
Dorian picked up one robe, admiring the creamy gold color, the sparkling gold clasps, the soft silken feeling of fabric. He snatched up another, this one dark crimson with thicker fabric and longer sleeves. He wondered if Bull had made sure he got a set of warmer robes, what with the way Dorian was always complaining about being cold. It brought a smile to his lips, even as tears began to run down his cheeks. Even if Bull expected something of him later, no one had shown him this kind of attention and care for a long time. No one paid much attention to the truth behind his complaints, usually rolled their eyes at him and ignored him. That was fine with Dorian, he didn’t want to be indebted t anyone else, what with a still rather long list of people he owed money and favors to after journeying south. Still, it was shocking to him that the Bull, Qunari spy and oxen savage, was the one to show him such kindness. They were friends, even, according to the other man. Still, there was a lingering panic in the back of Dorian’s mind, remembering others giving such gifts and demanding Dorian return the favor. It sent a shiver through Dorian, helping he remember why he’d left Tevinter. Once his tears had dried and he thought he had enough control over himself, he made his way to the tavern.  
  
The tavern was mostly empty at this point, since Dorian had spent most of the night researching. Krem was flirting with the blonde barmaid, and Sera was passed out on the table next to Bull. A few others that Dorian didn’t know still milled about, most of them pleasantly drunk. A smile grew on Bull’s face at seeing Dorian.

  
“What do I owe you?” Dorian demanded, crossing his arms and standing strong before the Bull. It made him sad to see Bull’s smile falter.

  
“Nothing,” the Bull shrugged.

  
Dorian blinked at him. He’d traded enough sexual favors for food and shelter on his way down south to know that nothing came for free. Even his so-called friends in Tevinter had always demanded something more — status, riches, sex. For some reason, it made Dorian grow mildly angry, now wondering if Bull did have alterior motives for the gift and his friendship. He certainly did make enough passes. Maybe the brute believed he could get close to him and trick him.

  
“What, are you going to collect later?” Dorian asked, looking both uncomfortable and irritated, “In private?”

  
Sadness crossed Bull’s face. He had suspected that Dorian had scrounged for food and shelter and money over the past few years, and had suspected one of the ways he had repaid others. It made his heart ache to know how often Dorian had been used by other men, and how Dorian was worried that the Bull was the same as them.

  
“Nah,” Bull shook his head, “How about you buy the next round and we call it even?”

  
“Truly?” Dorian said in disbelief.

  
“Sure. I was just trying to help a friend out, not get anything out of it. I can put it in writing, if you want.”

  
“I…” Dorian fumbled for words, eyes feeling wet again. He had always known people to be out for themselves, to better only themselves. No one in Tevinter seemed to do anything for any reason other than to their own personal gain. People had children to advance their bloodline, to carry on their status to worthy heirs.  People attend parties and gave gifts to help bribe the system in their favor. It was still strange, to be somewhere where people seemed to actually care about Dorian, “No, that won’t be necessary. I … I trust you. Thank you, Iron Bull.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a little thing about Bull giving Dorian robes while they were still just friends because he realized Dorian didn't have much stuff, and somehow it's 3k??


End file.
